


Once Upon a Time, There was a Consulting Detective

by siephilde42



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, The Hobbit References, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: John finds out by accident that Sherlock likes to tell romantic fairy tales. He wonders why his friend hid that fact from him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a thought experiment: "What if Sherlock enjoys telling romantic fairy tales, but never tells one in John's presence?" Beta-read by the lovely lipsticklacey <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, _bugger_ ", John groaned and sneezed into his handkerchief.

"Bless you", Sherlock commented.

"Rosie needs to get to preschool tomorrow", John coughed. "Obviously, I cannot bring her. Wouldn't want to spread the viruses to the children." He sniffled. "Sherlock, I was wondering, could you, just this once, ...?"

The detective looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Of course", he replied.

 _(I hope that goes well. Is it really a good idea to send Sherlock with her for her first day? What if he upsets the caregivers?)_ "Ok. Great. Thank you."

"Anytime, John."

* * *

"Uh, good day. This is, uh, Rosamund Watson. Her father is sick, so he sent me to bring her, and..."

"No-one calls me Rosamund. I'm Rosie", Rosie interrupted him, extending her hand to shake the caregiver's.

"Nice to meet you, Rosie. I'm Amanda." She turned back to Sherlock. "Do you want to come in for a while? We find it helps the children when their parents stay with them on the first days, just to settle in."

Sherlock stammered "Uh, I'm not sure I should. I mean, people usually..."

Again, he was interrupted. "Just come with, Sherlock. For a bit? Please", Rosie said, looking up with big eyes.

Of course he could not say no.

"Hi! That's Rosie", Amanda introduced her to the people in the room.

"Hello Rosie", some of them replied.

Sherlock retreated to a corner of the room and sank onto one of the small chairs, letting the interactions play out, ready to jump if someone dared to say or do anything harmful to Rosie.

One of the caregivers squinted at him and went over. "Excuse me. You're Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah", Sherlock replied, unsure how to proceed. Small talk was not his forte, after all. Or talking to people in general.

It was Rosie who came to the rescue. "Sherlock", she squealed, "can you tell a story?"

"A... a story? Right now?"

"Why not? I'm sure the others will like your stories too. They're brilliant."

"Um, thank you, Rosie. If you insist..." He cleared his throat. "A story. Uh. Well. Which one?", he asked, even if he was pretty sure what the answer would be. 

"The story of the princess and the dragon, please", Rosie pleaded. By now, there was a cluster of children around her, watching Sherlock.

"Your favourite, then. Um...

_~ Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess, desired by many suitors. The suitors were all beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, they were very, very ugly. They were mean. They did not respect her. They could not be bothered to talk to her, unless in a condescending way. They just wanted her as a status symbol, as a means to get sons. Many nights, she cried herself to sleep. Then, her eighteenth birthday came around. She feared it, for it was the day her father would decide whom to give her hand in marriage._

_The day came, and by daybreak, her father and her maids were standing in her chamber, looking very worried. Her father was paler than she had ever seen him._

_"What is it, father?"_

_Instead of an answer, her father sobbed and buried his face in his hands._

_One of the maids, who was also pale, spoke up. "Madam", she says, "...the dragon..."_

_In an instant, she understood what had happened. "Father. You have to let me go, then."_

_The king shook his head, but did not speak._

_"It's futile. We cannot resist the beast", she determined, much calmer than she should be. "It may destroy the castle and everything around it if I don't go. You know that."_

_* * *  
_

_"So you are here, as summoned", the dragon hissed. It was huge, with reddish scales, terrifying yellow eyes and a snoot with long, sharp teeth._

_"Yes. I'm here", she replied, her own heartbeat echoing in her ears._

_"So...", the beast murmured, crawling closer to her. She was looking directly at its teeth now and could feel its breath. She closed her eyes, ready to die._

_But nothing happened. Instead, she heard quiet chuckling. Surprised, she flung her eyes open._

_The dragon was looking at her, and she felt as if it could see deep into her soul, beyond her emerald eyes. She noticed that she was not afraid any more, realising that there was something else behind the grisly outward appearance. A... softness._

_"You see", the dragon spoke_ _, "the other princesses I 'captured' are free now. I let them go, and they went out into the world, forging their own destiny. Do you want to leave?"_

_"You set me free from my existence", she answered. "Actually, ... I think I would like to stay with you."_

_At this, the dragon gasped, and it was engulfed by a ball of golden light, so blinding that the princess had to raise a hand to shield her eyes. When she took it down, there was a person lying on the ground. With wonder, she watched the person standing up. It was a woman clad in red, and she was even a bit smaller than the princess herself. "Who are you?", she asked._

_The woman in red smiled. "I... was the beast. Now I'm my old self again, the witch of the mountain. I was transformed into a dragon by another witch many, many years ago. Her curse would prevent me from taking back my form until one princess would stay with me of her free will. And you did", she said, stepping towards the princess and taking her hands into her own._

_The princess took a closer look at her, and what she saw, it was not just softness, it was more than that. It was... love._

_And so, the two of them lived happily ever after ~_

For a moment, the detective, still immersed in the mental image of the princess and the witch, could not place the noise he was hearing after he had gone quiet. Then he understood. _(Clapping. The caregivers and the children are actually clapping. What?...)_

"Can you tell another one?", a boy blurted out.

With a questioning look, Sherlock glanced over at Amanda, who gave him an encouraging nod. Slowly, the detective started to smile. "Why not? Let's see what I have in my repertoire", he answered, pulling up the fairy-tale room in his mind.

* * *

Some days later, John had recovered from his cold, so he decided to take Rosie to the preschool himself. "Good day", he greeted Amanda. "I'm John Watson, Rosie's dad."

"I know. Come on in, then", she smiled.

"So... did he behave?", he asked, chuckling nervously.

"Who, Sherlock? Yes, he did."

"Glad to hear it. I mean, he does tend to... uh... put people off."

Instead of replying to this remark, Amanda stayed quiet, waving him into the main room.

When they noticed Rosie's and his appearance, some of the children glanced over to them. _(Am I imagining this or do they... look at me in a sad way? Why would...)_

A girl came up to Rosie, asking her "No Sherlock today?"

"No, it's my dad today."

The girl considered the doctor in an inquisitive manner. "Can your dad tell good stories too?"

 _(Wait, what?)_ "I'm sorry, hang on... Sherlock told you stories? _Sherlock?"_

"Yes", Amanda chimed in. "Fairy tales. Short ones, but poignant."

 _(Fairy tales??)_ "Uh, that, that... is news to me. I never heard one of those."

"He tells them to me when I wake up in the night so that I can fall asleep again."

"Why... don't you come to me when you can't sleep?", John asked.

"He's awake most of the time. You're not, because you need more sleep. Why should I wake you up too?"

John pinched his forehead. "Okay. That's fair. But I'm surprised all the same."

"You didn't know he likes fairy tales?", Rosie asked.

"No... No, not at all. Does he tell stories in the daytime too?"

Rosie pondered. "Yes, sometimes. But only when you're not there."

 _(When I'm not there... Why?)_ "Why?", he asked out loud.

The little Watson shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno."

"Uh, what stories are they? Scary, exciting,...?", he asked, trying to get some clues.

"Romantic, mostly", Amanda explained. "A bit scary sometimes, but... always with a happy ending. And with, uh, a romance. Maybe he's... embarrassed?"

"Uh, uh, maybe", John replied, still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. "I... I'll just ask him."


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you want to hear today?", the detective asked, already reaching for his violin while smiling down at Little Watson, who was sitting on the couch in her blue pajamas, clutching her plush tardigrade. "Maybe _Eine kleine Nachtmusik_?"

"How about a fairy tale, instead?", Big Watson (well, _Bigger_ Watson) suggested without looking up from the paper he was reading.

"Fa... fairy tale?", Sherlock stammered. "What makes you think..."

"Well, you _did_ tell some of those at preschool."

 _(Uh-oh)_ "They... they are not that good", he tried to downplay.

At this, John finally looked at him. "Pretty sure the children and the caretakers would disagree with you."

"I...", Sherlock began, but broke off, painfully aware that his face showed pure panic.

"Actually, I'd love to hear one of those. Rosie, which one would you suggest?"

_(Dontsaydragonprincess)_

"The story of the unhappy princess and the red dragon", Little Watson said.

_(Goddamnit)_

With a deep inhale, the detective said "Okay. All right. Let's."

 _~ ..._ _"So you are here, as summoned", the dragon hissed. It was huge, with reddish scales, terrifying yellow eyes and a snoot with long, sharp teeth._

_"Yes. I'm here", she replied, her own heartbeat echoing in her ears._

_"So...", the beast murmured, crawling closer to her. She was looking directly at its teeth now and could feel its breath. She hoped that it had not noticed the long dagger she had hidden behind... ~  
_

"Stop!", Rosie protested. "That is not how the story goes."

"Um, I thought I would adapt it a bit, and..."

"No, no. Tell it the _right_ way!"

Swallowing hard, Sherlock obliged, backtracking.

~ _"So...", the beast murmured, crawling closer to her. She was looking directly at its teeth now and could feel its breath._ _She closed her eyes, ready to die._

_But nothing happened. Instead, she heard quiet chuckling. Surprised, she flung her eyes open.~_

_(So it's not evil then, the dragon? That's... interesting)_ , John thought.

~ _And so, the two of them lived happily ever after ~_

"Well, that was... _amazing_ ", John determined. "And now let's tuck you in", he said, scooping up Rosie in his arms.

For a very brief moment, Sherlock considered fleeing the flat. _(But that will just delay the confrontation, won't it? Not a very rational or sensible action. I should just...)_

When he came back, John gave Sherlock a long, intense stare.

"Um... John, do you want to say something?", Sherlock asked.

Breaking eye contact, John grimaced and rubbed his chin before answering. "Well...", he sighed. "It's you, isn't it?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"The dragon. It's you, isn't it?"

The detective felt himself blushing. "I don't know what you're talking about", he stuttered.

"Oh, it's the dragon you're identifying with", John determined. Raising his eyebrows, he continued. "Only question is, who's the princess?"

At this, Sherlock broke away, heading for the door. _(Fuck rationality)_

"It's me, isn't it", he heard John say, rather an observation than a question.

 _(Blast it)_ , he thought, feeling as if he had been flash-frozen, unable to move.

"I take it that this is why you would tell fairy tales in anybody's presence but mine. Because... they are about us, aren't they? Every single one of them."

_(Yes. Yes, they are. But there is no way I will tell you.)_

"You just did."

"I... what?"

"It's difficult for you, isn't it? Holding apart your internal monologues and conversation with other people."

_(Oh. Oh. I thought aloud. Oh no.)_

"Oh, yes."

Still facing the doorway, the detective tried calculating a strategy. Lying. Running out the door. Apologising.

Before he could settle on one of these strategies (or, rather, completely melt down), he felt a hand on his arm. "Sherlock", John said. "Maybe it's time we face certain facts."

_(Facts? What facts? That it would be better if he and Rosie moved out again? What?)_

"Sherlock", John repeated, squeezing his arm in a reassuring way. "I... More precisely, it's probably about time I admitted... uh..."

 _(What? What is he saying?)_ "What are you saying?"

"Uh... how did she put it? I think I would like to stay with you."

"You... you would?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

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Once upon a time, there was a consulting detective... and a doctor.

THE END


End file.
